SEPTEMBER

The Charge

Opening Statement

Woody Allen takes a break between sprawling existential dramas for a
claustrophobic character study.

Facts of the Case

Trapped within the walls of her Vermont cottage, Lane (Mia Farrow) has
survived a long physical illness, and an even longer psychological one. As she
prepares for her return to New York, she dotes on Peter (Sam Waterston), an ad
writer turned aspiring novelist. Peter, who is unsure that his novel is even
worth finishing, cannot return Lane's affection: he is in love with Lane's best
friend Stephanie (Dianne Wiest). But Stephanie is married and unsure of her
attraction to Peter.

As complicated as these present relationships are, they pale before Lane's
traumatic past, and the tension she feels toward her mother Diane (Elaine
Stritch). Diane's wild youth is the source of much amusement for both Peter and
her current husband Lloyd (Jack Warden), but a dark secret exists between her
and Lane. And in one very long day, these characters are about to enter the
autumn of their lives with an oppressive weight on their shoulders.

The Evidence

If you recall our discussion in an earlier Deep Focus column on Woody
Allen, the mid-to-late 1980s were Allen's "Bergman" phase, in
which he worked over in meticulous detail the conjunctions between character
psychology and the problem of history. After the ambitious Radio Days,
Allen decided to attempt a closet drama in a style reminiscent of Ibsen. The
result is September. Three key elements mark this film as a departure
from Allen's usual style:

The setting: Allen restricts himself to a single set (the cottage),
never venturing outside at any point (even the brief porch scenes take place in
darkness). This in part creates the feel of a stage play (and the paced and
deliberate performances of the small cast enhance this), only livened up by
camera movement. Warm tones of late summer float into the rooms through
shuttered windows, signs of a world where the characters have missed the frolic
of summer and are now preparing to enter a bleak autumn. This enclosed space
also generates claustrophobia, well suited to the closeted lives of Lane and her
friends. Only Lane's mother has ever seemed to escape the confines of an
interior existence. But Diane's famous dalliance with a gangster during Lane's
childhood ended in disaster: a history of abuse and murder from which Lane has
never psychologically recovered.

The characters: As a result of the damage Diane has caused, Lane has
spent the rest of her life in retreat, and is only now coming to realize how
much she has become an emotional cripple. But is Lane's withdrawal Diane's
fault, or did Lane choose this on her own? Many of the characters in Allen's
film are afraid to step outside into the world, and their humorless, arid lives
again seem more suited to an Ibsen psychodrama then Allen's usual cinema
territory. Allen's use of dialogue is spare and precise (again, similar to a
stage play), and he allows the camera to linger to take in the thought process
of each character.

The tone: While Allen has shown himself as adept at dramas as at
comedies (a fact which we noted in the aforementioned Deep Focus column),
September may be one of his driest films, showing none of the stylistic
flourishes he would employ in Hannah and Her Sisters or Crimes and
Misdemeanors, both of which mark high points of his "Bergmanesque"
phase. Although arguably, September is as experimental as Allen's more
visually radical films of recent years: the shift to a closet drama format
requires him to focus on character development and tiny details of dialogue in
order to carry the effect of the film.

The Rebuttal Witnesses

That having been noted, I must rank September as a relative failure
from Woody Allen. The angst voiced by the characters differs little from his
other films (self-doubt over creative potential, unrequited romantic longings,
envy over a family member's success), but when boiled down in such an experiment
in minimalism, placed under such microscopic scrutiny, the character
interactions become stiff, as if confrontations must be timed out for dramatic
effect. Ibsen's plays (and Bergman's films) always balance these progressively
revealed layers of psychological trauma by heightening reality through narrative
trickery (overt symbolism, exposing the narrative process, and so on). Allen has
stripped down the drama perhaps too much, and the result is the audience feeling
trapped in a house with a bunch of people we just want to slap some sense
into.

I also want to slap some sense into MGM. Even if September is a weak
effort, it still deserves better attention than has been paid here. Yes, I know
Woody Allen has an aversion to DVD, but apart from some information on the
insert and a full-frame theatrical trailer that says absolutely nothing about
the movie (other than listing the cast), there are no extras. And although
French and Spanish subtitles (and dubs) are provided, there are no English
subtitles.

The video is serviceable, free of major defects, but there is a noticeable
graininess to it. The soundtrack appears in mono only, but since Allen uses
almost no incidental music (just a few old jazz pieces as always) and the action
is trapped within the confines of the house, there is little need for a wide
field of sound.

Closing Statement

It might seem unfair to simply dismiss September as a lesser effort
from Woody Allen, but it really does cover too much material handled more
effectively in other Allen films. Woody Allen fans will want to give it a look
to compare it with his other films, but casual viewers may find September
less than the sum of its parts.

The Verdict

The court withholds judgment against Woody Allen on the grounds that this
film is merely one small part of a remarkable body of work. MGM is fined for the
lack of supplemental materials and admonished to provide English subtitling for
all its films.